


You Already Have

by GoldenTruth813



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Anger, Angst, Denial of Feelings, Enemies to Lovers, Established Relationship, Fucking Outside, Hate Sex, Hogwarts Era, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 22:42:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14603289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenTruth813/pseuds/GoldenTruth813
Summary: Marcus hates Oliver. Oliver wishes he hated him back.





	You Already Have

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AmoretteHD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmoretteHD/gifts).



> Unbeted.
> 
> Written for the May Rarepair Bingo using the fills anger, fucking outside, the fear of being caught in the act & "We shouldn't be doing this"

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” Marcus’s voice is hoarse from the last few hours—hours spent screaming in vain at his teammates—in the last Gryffindor versus Slytherin match of the year. 

“No one has to know,” Oliver answers. He always says the same thing. It’s been months and he’s still not sure if Marcus is more ashamed he’s fucking a boy or a Gryffindor.

Marcus’s eyes dart around the empty field. Everyone else had gone back up to the school hours ago and they were as alone as it was possible to be at a boarding school full of hundreds of people. 

“Someone might find us.” Marcus sounds worried but he takes a step closer to Oliver.

The sun is just beginning to set; the humid summer air blanketing them in a haze of warmth that makes Oliver feel a bit like he had when he’d taken a dare last month and downed an entire bottle of Firewhiskey by himself—a little drunk, a little reckless, and mostly powerful. “No one will find us.” 

Marcus grunts, shoving his hands in his pocket, his jaw flexing as he clenches his teeth. He’s so close but not close enough and fuck Oliver wants to touch him. Oliver never touches first, it’s one of their unspoken rules. He knows Marcus needs to make the first move—needs to be in control.

“We beat you,” Oliver taunts, already knowing what kind of response it will earn him.

As expected, Marcus practically snarls, slamming into Oliver and grabbing the back of his head as he kisses him like he plays Quidditch—with no mercy.

Oliver moans into the kiss. He loves it, loves the hard planes of Marcus’s body, the roughness of his chapped lips and the metallic taste of blood on the tip of his tongue when it gets a bit too rough. Marcus is angry, though whether its at Oliver or the world he can never quite sure, but it's one of the only emotions Marcus offers him so Oliver drinks it up like a man dying of thirst  even if it taste like poison _. _

“So fucking cocky, Wood, thinking you own the place,” Marcus says, pressing Oliver down into the grass and beginning to disrobe him. His words are sharp as knives, his hands gentle. “I’ll knock you down a peg or two.”

It never ceases to amaze Oliver that Marcus is capable of such a juxtaposition. He likes Marcus as much for the roughness in him as the softness. Not that he would ever tell him that. Oliver files that knowledge away along with the other things he knows about Marcus like the way he likes his eggs cooked or the disgusting way he drinks his tea—more milk than sugar and always with two teabags—or the way he looks when he cries. He files it away with the memory of the sounds Marcus made the first time he let Oliver suck him off in the changing rooms or the way Marcus’s clumsy hands had been surprisingly nimble the first time they’d pressed inside of Oliver’s body. Those things involve feelings and whatever it is they’re doing it is not supposed to involve  _ those _ . Not at all. 

They’d never said the words out loud but the wall existed between them all the same.  _ No feelings _ . No falling in love. No emotions.

Oliver’d thought it would be easy. The only thing he’d ever loved was Quidditch and he certainly didn’t expect to have feelings for someone who claimed to hate him. It was supposed to be simple. Except it was anything fucking but and the longer it went on the less Oliver could care.

It was graceless the way they moved, tearing each other’s clothes off as if their moments together were numbered, as if they could both sense the desperation in the truth that this might be the last time. Oliver knew they could get caught out here and he couldn’t be arsed to care and apparently neither could Marcus.

Oliver lays back on the grass as the last rays of sunshine disappear beyond the horizon, taking with it his courage. He closes his eyes and spreads his legs knowing he won’t say the words he wants to, that he won’t say the words he promised himself he’d say this time.

“I’m going to beat you one day,” Marcus breaths, his lube slicked fingers finding their way into Oliver’s body.

You already have, Oliver thought, closing his eyes and trying not feel so fucking much he thought he might die from it.

_ You already have. _


End file.
